Текст Maxo Kream – Out The Door
Текст:
Maxo Kream:
You can’t smoke around, sit around
Gotta cop and dip
Move a hundred pound outta’ bounds
When I was young I was hella dumb
My trap wasn’t shit
Went from a 1 to a metric ton
Trap house did a flip
I don’t even know this nigga but I still made the sale (Hell!)
Ring my door bell (Hell!), sell a whole bale
It was 5 pound short stupid nigga couldn’t tell (Ayo)
Blowing up my cell (well), should of brought a scale
Fork whipping, mixing grit
Used to burn up all my shit
Cop me a scale and zip
Hol’ on now I’m getting it
Finesse the stain, finesse the plug
Finesse that dope, finesse that bitch
Finesse about a hundred thousand grams using counterfeit
I’d be strapped already, trigger happy
Posted with the toolie
Pistol packing, I was packing
I be packing like I’m moving
The ones that like to sit around
Would be the ones that try to do you
So I keep up my spare shotty with a kick like Jin Kazuma
Keep my trapping on the low cause it ain’t everybody’s business
I got 25-to-life inside them cabinets in my kitchen
Hunnid pounds in the trash bag, Maxo do the dishes
Got cameras in the front, got cameras in the back
Got cameras cross the street, in that old Cadillac
Got J’s in my closet, got J’s at the door
Got J’s to wash my car for a lil’ crack of coke
Ring my doorbell, come in and take your shoes off
Wax in the oven, take it out and let it cool off
Pack right here you ain’t even gotta sit down
Don’t get cozy, get this shit and move the fuck around
You can’t smoke around, sit around
Gotta cop and dip
Move a hundred pound outt’ bounds
Now I’m getting chips
When I was young I was hella dumb
My trap wasn’t shit
Went from a 1 to a metric ton
Trap house did a flip
I don’t even know this nigga but I still made the sale
Ring my door bell, sell a whole bale
It was 5 pound short stupid nigga couldn’t tell
Blowing up my cell, should of brought a scale
Key!:
36 O’s, that’s a bad hoe
36 German bricks, that’s a stupid bitch
Introduce that stupid bitch to them bad hoes
Pockets on overload, now your pockets swole
Who don’t want pressure? Who ain’t got pressure?
Boy we fucking shine, pressure lake it dies
Where your pressure point? I bet I can find it
Where your pressure point? I bet I can find it
I got a fifty round drum in a Rondo
And I’m beating down your block, you’re like Congo
Where the base go? Where the base go?
Talking to the internet like where the base go?
Trap house swole, trap house closed
I keep my young’in»s on the block even when it’s cold
Now they coming back hot, I’m like «Damn whoa!»
What y’all gone and told?
Maxo Kream:
You can’t smoke around, sit around
Gotta cop and dip
Move a hundred pound outta bounds
Now I’m getting chips
When I was young I was hella dumb
My trap wasn’t shit
Went from a 1 to a metric ton
Trap house did a flip
I don’t even know this nigga but I still made the sale
Ring my door bell, sell a whole bale
It was 5 pound short stupid nigga couldn’t tell
Blowing up my cell, should of brought a scale
